Moments
by Free To Imagine
Summary: These are all one shots/standalone fic's that centre, or at least involve James Potter Sr. in come way. All written for the 100quills challenge at LiveJournal.
1. Broken

_**Authors Note: **It's been a while since I'd written fan fiction, and this was the first fan fiction I wrote when I started writing again. The story was written for the 100quills prompt challenge at LiveJournal. The prompt was Broken. _

_**Disclaimer: **I am not J.K. Rowling, and do not own any of the characters, Hogwarts or any other part of the Harry Potter universe. If you recognise it, it's not mine. _

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**Broken**

His father looks so fragile, so broken. Like a porcelain doll, he could break so easily. He's just wasting away, in front of his eyes.

James can't do anything. He's tried, of course he has. It's not a situation he likes being in. He's always been a practical person, and to be able to do something is hard for him to deal with.

It's not fair that his father should suffer. He hasn't done anything. But here he's got a disease that's slowly killing him, and neither James, nor any of the St. Mungo's staff can do anything to stop it.

He finally breaks in the early hours of the morning. Just like that, he dies. Most of him is relieved. His father won't suffer any more. He's not in pain now.

Another part, a smaller part of him breaks a little. Now, he doesn't have a father. But really, when he thinks about it, did he really have one while he was suffering?

James doesn't think so. His father broke the moment he got sick and started wasting away.


	2. Redeem

**Authors Note:** The story was written for the 100quills prompt challenge at LiveJournal. The prompt was Motion.

**Disclaimer:** I am not J.K. Rowling, and do not own any of the characters, Hogwarts or any other part of the Harry Potter universe. If you recognise it, it's not mine.

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**Redeem**

Wands twirled around through the air, sparks and jets of light flying out. He laid back, his eyes resting on the goblet in front of him. He's changed the colour of it ten times now, trying to find the best one to suit its style.

He only had to do it once, and then call Professor McGonagall over, but he'd got it first time round, without any trouble, and he couldn't stand people thinking he was cheating.

Because he didn't cheat, he was just very good at transfiguration. Everyone had there easy class; everyone had there bludge class. Transfiguration just happened to be his.

"Hey Prongs," Sirius whispered beside him.

"What?" he replied, keeping his voice low.

Sirius shifted in his seat, so that he could look at James better. "Do you think Moony will ever talk to me again?" he asked, shooting Remus an anxious look.

"He knows you didn't mean it," James reasoned, also looking over at the boy in question, and thinking back to the conversation that they had had the night before. "He just wants to make sure you learn your lesson."

Sirius sighed, and sank deeper into the chair. He put his hands behind his head, and his crossed his ankles. "I didn't mean to. I swear..."

"Yeah I know, and so does Moony. Look, just wait and see what happens. We all stuff up, right?" James replied. "You just happened to stuff up a little bigger then the rest of us."

"Yeah, I guess I have," he whispers.

Suddenly, professor McGonagall was in front of them. "Can you repeat it?"

"Yes Professor," James and Sirius said in unison.

They twirled there wands, the motion just a swirl of colour. The goblets both turned a bright, Gryffindor red.

"Very good boys," she commented. "You may start on your essay now."

They both groaned, taking out parchment and quills. "I'll talk to Moony tonight," James promised. "Try and convince him to redeem you."

"Thanks."

"No problem."


	3. Generally Friendly

**Authors Note: **The story was written for the 100quills prompt challenge at LiveJournal. The prompt was Sarcasm.

**Disclaimer: **I am not J.K. Rowling, and do not own any of the characters, Hogwarts or any other part of the Harry Potter universe. If you recognise it, it's not mine.

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**Generally Friendly**

She walks up to him, her red hair swaying from side to side on her back. Her lips are curved into a smile, her eyes showing no trace of anger.

When she speaks, her voice is light and carefree. It's a pleasant sound, just like her words.

She calls him James now. Not Potter, _James_.

"Thanks," she tells him, and there is no sarcasm behind the word. There was a time when he had thought she couldn't be like this. But here he's been proven wrong.

She's being generally friendly now. He's happy. It's what he's wanted for so long.


	4. It Has It's Positives

Of all the things that could have happened when he didn't pay attention, this was not what he thought would. Detention was the top of the list for him, followed by a slap on the wrist. Maybe being grounded, or loosing a friend. But the moment he stopped paying attention, the moment that he let all his guards down, he never thought that this could arise from it.

When he got his last Hogwarts letter, he really was speechless. _Head Boy_. Now really this was not something he had imagined.

Who would pick him, out of all the other kids in seventh year? It was one thing to be smart, but an entirely different matter being a role model. Grades weren't everything, especially when he came to Head Boy. He would have gotten over a hundred detentions by now.

But here it was, in front of him. A letter and badge, with Professor Dumbledore's signature below it.

It took until midday to recover, until three that afternoon to spread the news to Sirius, Peter and Remus and still he didn't think it was right.

He couldn't stop thinking that it was ironic that he should get head boy when no one, especially him, thought that he would. He guessed that sometimes, not paying attention had its positives.


	5. It Wasn't An Option

He had looked at the _thing_ that was Voldemort.

"Join me and my followers. We could do great things together," he'd told him. It sent a shiver down his spin.

"You mean _you_ could do hideous things using _me_?" he'd asked.

Voldemort stepped forward, the gap between them closing. "No," he corrected. "There are things that need changing in this world, and you could help."

"No I can't." It wasn't even an option. He wasn't going to kill somebody because of an idea that he didn't even believe in. They were innocent. What had they done wrong? "No I won't."


	6. Change

He couldn't tell if it was him or her that had changed most. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to be able to determine who had.

It wasn't that he'd changed; so much as he was a different person. He was a better person: more bearable, more tolerate. And it wasn't that she'd changed much. She was more beautiful, more special, more welcoming.

She didn't accuse him anymore. She didn't yell or scream at him when he tipped her over the edge.

And he didn't accuse her of loving him. Because they both knew that they did.


	7. Blessing

"It's a blessing to take you out on a date, Lily."

"Right."

"Don't snort, Lily. I'm not lying."

"And you're suppressing a smirk, so I highly doubt it."

"You may read me like a book all you want, but you shall never insult me."

"I believe I have, on several occasions."

"It'll be a nice thing to brag to my children about."

"What, that you let a girl insult you more then ten times, and you still continued to go back and beg for more."

"No, that I let Lily Evans insult me."

"And that's a good thing?"

"It's a blessing."


	8. Friends

He didn't have a lot of kids to play with when he was little. It wasn't because he was a shy boy, or because no one liked him. It was because he stayed at home with his mother, with no siblings or cousins.

When he was six he asked his parent why he didn't have a younger brother or sister.

"Where too old to have more children," his parents had explained.

So when he reached Hogwarts and made friends, he couldn't believe how nice it was to have friends. As the years went by, he grew more and more attached to his friends, until they became not just his friends, but also his siblings.


	9. Playground

The cool metal sank deep into his hands as he climbed the monkey bars. His legs swinged as he pushed himself towards the next bar. It was lonely here, in this Muggle playground. There were no kids, not even Muggle ones. He'd give anything to have a friend right now.

At the tender age of four, it's no wonder he forms the concept of imaginary friends in the space of ten minutes in a lonesome playground. He follows this shadowy figure over the equipment, watching how this kid, a year or so older then him, slides down the slide gracefully.

It makes everything easier, fun. The cool metal equipment the grounds of his imagination, and the means of tapping into it. He has no idea how these experiences will be the beginnings of him making friends at Hogwarts. He doesn't care anyway.


	10. Torn

**Subject title:** free_to_imagine: Torn (James Sr/G)

**Tag: **james sr 100.1 (free_to_imagine)

**Title: **Torn

**Author: **lj user="free_to_imagine"

**Rating: **G

**Prompt Set: **100.1

**Prompt: **# 63 – Moon

**Word Count: **378

**Characters: **James Potter, Lily Evans

**Summary: **James misses a patrol while head boy, and he feels torn between doing what's right – and what Lily would like – and what will keep his friends happy and out of trouble.

**Authors Note: **Written for lj user="100quills".

Running swiftly through the crowed corridor, he found who he was looking for.

"Lily, don't!" he hissed urgently to her.

She turned to James, glaring. "Why should I listen to you, Potter?" she asked in a menacing voice.

He didn't know how to answer.

"That's what I thought," she continued, and persisted down the hallway.

"Lily!" he yelled after her.

She pivoted, looking back at him with a frustrated sigh. "I haven't got all day, you know!" she yelled at him.

"I can explain. There's a reason…" James started to explain.

"_You can explain?_ I don't want a lie, Potter. You want to slack off, fine. But do not think that you will get away with it without consequences, alright?" she said sternly, sounding very much like Professor McGonagall.

He pushed his hand through his hand, trying very hard not to just take her by the shoulders and shake her and make her see that there were some things more important then patrols going on.

"_Well_?" she asked in an irritated voice. "Are you, or not?"

He sighed, and resined himself to going strait down the middle. "Let me make it up to you, Lily," he whispered. "I can't tell you why I wasn't there. It's not my place to say. But I'll make it up to you. I will."

She looked at him, trying to decipher the pained expression he held. One that made him look torn.

"Fine, I won't say anything to Dumbledore. But if you miss one more patrol…" she threatened, leaving the end hanging.

He nodded quickly, knowing that if he missed another one – which was very likely to happen, seeing as the moon was always full once a month – he would very much loose every bit of confidence and trust that he'd earned from all the teachers and Lily. Especially Lily.

"Goodbye Potter," Lily said pointedly. "I'll see you for patrols tonight. Hopefully you'll be able to get yourself to this one."

She turned away from him, and made her way up the steps to Gryffindor tower. He wished that friends didn't come first, but he knew he could never go against what they needed. It was more important to keep them, then the strained, almost friend's relationship that he had with Lily.


	11. Third Time's Never The Charm

The pain radiated from his chest, and then there was nothing, and all he wanted was to scream out and protect his love and child.

As the nothingness overcame him, he wished he had seen this coming. And he guessed, in a way, he had. There was no way that he and Lily were going to escape him again. Not this time. They had already done it twice and it was tempting fate with that.

There was no such thing as third time lucky. Not when the first two times had been as well.

He wouldn't have trusted Peter had he known, seen a glimpse, of this happening. He would have kept with Sirius – who was obvious, but more loyal then the rest of them. Like the dog that he was.

Now his whole family was dead, and it was all because he had put his trust in the wrong person.

Things just didn't work out the way he always wanted them to.


	12. Different

It wasn't that the world was any different; more that he was seeing it from a different height. Leaves were more beautiful, the grass splayed beneath his feet. More stable underneath him.

The sun wouldn't have bothered him as much if he was to come outside in it.

Things seemed so much easier to him in this body. Simpler. Problems didn't seem as hard when you were a stag. Rounding up a werewolf seemed like child's play almost.

It seemed sometimes, when he really thought about it, that he was looking through different eyes. Put he wasn't really. He was different.


End file.
